Standardization of Iluko Spelling

I know this entry could get me shot and lambasted, because, for some reason, the topic is quite sensitive. I had considered keeping mum about it — I had thought it’s safer that way — but I eventually decided against staying silent, for to keep quiet when there is something that needs to be said is cowardice and, in some occasions, may be dangerous. As I am not a coward and, more importantly, because zipping up my lips would be an act unbecoming of a naturally talkative and opinionated person like myself, I am finally offering my humble opinion on the subject.

The issue I’m talking about is Iluko Standardization (spelling).

In my socio-linguistics class last semester, I proposed Iluko Standardization (spelling) as the focus of my research. I wanted to evaluate the orthography of different iluko publications, determine their differences, and hopefully recommend, based on some categories I would later design, which of these spelling systems could be used as standard.

By standard, I mean, the form to be adapted in publication and formal written communications. Designating a form as standard does not in any way mean that the other forms are “substandard” or inferior. It only means that the standard form is more widely used or accepted for business transactions and formal communications.

As the issue of spelling in any language is rather “hot,” I did not have a hard time convincing my professor of the merits of the study. And having been given the go signal to work on it, I embarked on researching the existing Iluko publications, with the help of my father. I had even asked Dad to help me set up appointments with the editors, some of whom he personally knew; and I likewise made preliminary arrangements in my schedule, in anticipation of several travels I thought I was going to make (to Regions 1, 2, and CAR) to meet with the editors.

My and my father's preliminary efforts, however, yielded the following information:
· Rimat, which spelled several words differently, had already folded up, enabling Bannawag to maintain its status as the most-read Iluko publication.
· Most, if not all, books published by GUMIL follow Bannawag spelling.
· A bible using Bannawag spelling is under way.
· The papers in NV (I didn’t get to check the Iluko papers in other Iluko-speaking provinces) are published and/or edited by Bannawag-influenced editors.

With this preliminary information, I went back to my professor and told him I needed to change my topic, because it was already a non-issue. I believe that there is already an established Iluko orthography — all but needing formal recognition — and that is Bannawag’s, whether we choose to accept it or not. This is because, where orthography is concerned, it is that form used by the widest circulating publication that prevails.

And while at first I was not quite happy with the situation — quite understandably, I hope — for, after a month of working on my research design, I suddenly found myself without a research problem (as my problem seemed no longer a problem), I think this scenario is actually good for the language, because it means Iluko has come a long way.

As for me, I’ve made another proposal, which luckily was approved outright. And that is, to find how different the Iluko spoken by the NOW generation is to that spoken by their parents and by their grandparents. I’ve noticed that there are forms used by older people that the younger people don’t know about (except those who write in Iluko).*

At first I wanted to do a study of the different forms used in different provinces (dialectal differences) but that is already dialectology, not a socio-linguistic study. Besides, that’s something I can’t finish in three months. Moreover, it would require funding, a lot of help (informants), and time — all of which I don't have at the moment. Sigh!


*[Case in point: My Iluko which, I think, belongs to the now generation (Manang Linda Lingbaoan calls it pop iluko). I find my Iluko very narabaw. This sometimes frustrates the struggling writer in me because I noticed that to many, the mark of a good Iluko work is the use of nauneg or old forms. Old iluko seems elegant. And while I sometimes strive to learn the old forms, the rebel in me resents it. The old form isn’t the Iluko that I grew up with. It’s not the Iluko that I speak. Hence, the moment I write using that form, my writing ceases to reflect me.]

Or may be I just don't have a good grasp of the language — that maybe I am one of those native speakers who somehow are not literate enough to write in their native language?